


Catch of the Day

by Ilthit



Category: Stand Still Stay Silent
Genre: F/M, Ficlet, First Kiss, Wordcount: 100-1.000
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-06-04
Updated: 2019-06-04
Packaged: 2020-04-07 15:53:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 570
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19088227
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ilthit/pseuds/Ilthit
Summary: A lazy day in Brúardalur.





	Catch of the Day

**Author's Note:**

> I have a strong feeling this pairing is canon, just yet to be revealed, so I wrote this little hypothetical.

Sigrun makes the first move. Of course she does. She never had the patience to outwait some self-important fucker cultivating an alluring mystique.

“We’re in sight of the road,” Mikkel points out. He’s flat on his back in the grass of the field, on one of the mountain slopes surrounding Brúardalur. Above them, the ground climbs up towards the sky in undulations like still waves. She’s straddling him, her lips still bruised from the kiss that had brought them both down.

Her body and mind are on fire. Damn, she loves a first kiss. The adrenaline of it will never be matched again in anything that passes between them, and she intends to ride that high while she can. “So? You’re not shy, are you?” She unbuttons his collar and drops her face down into his neck.

She’s been thinking about this for a long time, but first they were on a mission, and then there was a glass wall between them, with the boys listening in whenever they could stop bickering and moping, to the point she despaired of even flirting through their endless games of battleships. But then there was lunch in Reykjavik, and she was sure of him then, but, well, they had a carriage to catch.

Part of her figures there should be a plan of action, some damage control ready and waiting in case she misread the signs, but crashing in and making a mess is more her style. And damn, he is fine, that sturdy body beneath all too many layers of clothing. If only she can make him… and there it is, the gasp as she slips her leg between his thighs. The stone man lives after all. She grins against his skin.

“Sigrun… Sigrun.”

“What?” she growls, sitting up.

Mikkel points down the road.

What seems to be half the village and a portion of sheep is coming up the road with bells and colourful ribbons. A wedding, maybe? Or is it Midsummer already? Either way, that’s a little too much audience. God damn it all to hell.

She climbs up and gives a hand up to her… whatever they are now. “Rain check?”

Mikkel nods. “Later.” His hand flutters down the small of her back and her knees melt a little as they start down to join the procession. She squeezes his hand before letting go, sealing the promise.

Sigrun’s no romantic. This is want, pure and simple. If he changes his mind, plenty of other fish in the sea.

But he kept her together when she was falling apart, out there in the silent world, when she thought they’d lost half their crew. She knew him for days and weeks on end with his steady hand on the skillet, or chucking buckets of water down her neck. He saw her stripped to her bare bones and never looked away. She could use a man with nerves like that in her unit back home. Even if she sometimes suspected him of putting on a show for her sake, then by Odin, what showmanship. She might need to peel back that facade before she’ll find the red meat of him, to make him come apart, but she likes that idea, too. Like unwrapping a present to yourself.

She leans in and mutters something filthy in his ear as they join the procession. He laughs.

All in all, a good day of fishing.


End file.
